


Making it Better

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Series: Being Duo Maxwell [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Language, Lime, M/M, POV Duo Maxwell, Set just within Episode 4, Yaoi, by Keelywolfe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Keelywolfe--Set just within Episode 4, which you will recall had Heero and Duo being oh, so friendly to each other after their little hospital break out.





	Making it Better

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> I am grossly abusing the lyrics to 'Hey Jude' for my own nefarious reasons.
> 
> WARNINGS: For language, mostly. In my mind, Duo is a foul- mouthed little brat and I'm afraid it's reflected here.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad..."  
  
There are very few things in this world that I hate more than silence. For no more reason than when it is quiet, you can hear. Everything. People walking, people moving, people crying...people dying. Way, way more than I like to hear, which is probably why I chatter on like a monkey most of the time. Sure, I annoy people, but since I could give a rat's ass about that, life is pretty good.  
  
Which was why I decided that God was having another one of his oh, so funny jokes at my expense by hooking me up with the Sovereign of Silence, the guy whose life I had saved and yet he couldn't be bothered to tell me his name.  
  
After a few attempts to get Mr. Sets-his-own-bones-which-is-really- disgusting talking, I gave up. Even I have some standards and I wasn't about to talk to a brick wall all afternoon.  
  
Which is why I was sitting on the floor, going over some schematics and singing. Even my rather dubious skill with song was better than total silence, at least in my opinion.  
  
"...take a sad song and make it better..."  
  
Sadly, No Name up there didn't agree with me.  
  
That guy poked his head out of a repair hatch in his Gundam, face streaked with grease, and said in that most annoying voice of his, "How am I supposed to do anything if you won't keep quiet?"  
  
Well, isn't someone cranky? You'd think this was his personal cruise ship or something. I flopped back against deck and gave him a look of mock horror. "Oh, c'mon, man! The Beatles are, like, classic!"  
  
No reply. He delved back into the womb of his beast and I sighed wearily. "Uncultured heathen," I muttered, climbing to my feet and tossing my papers aside. This guy could work through lunch if he wanted to, but I'd missed more than enough meals in my life, thanks much, and I don't skip out on food if I possibly can.  
  
My hair caught on something, jerking my flight to a halt and I cursed silently, swearing that I was going to cut off the useless lump of hair as I reached back automatically to untangle it. Only to find my wrist similarly caught and I realized a moment too late that it wasn't something but someone, and that someone was yanking me backwards and upward, throwing me into the cockpit of an unknown but still oddly familiar Gundam.  
  
We must have looked ridiculous, my legs dangling out and him leaning over me. My wrist still twisted in his grasp, in just such a way that if I struggled he'd probably break it, which would keep me out of the pilot's seat for a few weeks at the very least. Adrenaline was thrumming hotly through my veins and every street instinct I had in me was screaming to fight, to get away. I ignored it, holding very still as I waited to see if he was going to take me out of this war with one sharp jerk of his hand.  
  
His face was bare centimeters from mine as he hissed, "What do you really want from me?"  
  
Should have expected that, I suppose. This kind of guy isn't used to people doing things for him and wanting nothing in return. Still, it wasn't like I could tell him the truth. I'm not the shiniest apple on the tree but I have a few brain cells rolling around upstairs, and there was no way in hell I was going to tell him the real reason that I saved his ass is because he has nice eyes. Blue, blue, blue, and I am just a sucker for a pretty face, as I've proven many times in the past. So I was thinking with my dick. So sue me.  
  
Being that I couldn't tell him the truth, I said nothing, and he ratched up the pressure on my wrist a few degrees, until I winced before I could stop myself.  
  
"Answer me! What do you want from me?"  
  
*Oh, no, you'll have to do much better than that if you want me to break...* "Nothing at all," I said, softly, and I leaned up far enough to lick his nose.  
  
His eyes went comically wide and he let go of me so quickly that I fell the rest of the way into the cockpit, rapping my head sharply on the bulkhead. Stars swam briefly in front of my eyes, and I rubbed the back of my head gingerly. "Geez, way to repay a guy for saving your life."  
  
He didn't even look at me. "I didn't ask you to."  
  
Well, how can you argue with that? "Nope. You didn't. My bad." I crawled out of the cockpit past him, warily, but he let me go without a word. Swinging down and keeping a sharp eye on my braid this time, I was silent until I got out of grabbing range. "Hey, Jude..."  
  
I didn't wait to see what he'd do this time. Lunch was waiting.  
  
***  
  
It was much later in the night when I saw him again, although I'm willing to bet he saw me first.  
  
I was in the middle of a dream about walking on the moon in my bare feet, and I could hear something crunching beneath my toes, brittle as glass but when I looked down I was walking across bones where there should have been dust, the entire surface of the moon littered with fragile bones of the dead as if it were a graveyard, a garden of bones...  
  
I woke up with a jerk, my cheeks stiff with drying tears and I swiped the rest of them away with the back of my hand, disgusted with the feel. Cripes, I'd had a weird day and now I was having weird dreams on top of it. That's the Maxwell luck, all right. Not one moment of true peace.  
  
Snorting aloud at the melancholy turn of my thoughts, I rolled over with every intention of going back to sleep only to find myself nose to nose with -him-.  
  
It was a miracle I didn't wake up the rest of the ship because I certainly squawked loud enough to raise the dead. Fumbling backwards, I nearly fell off the bed, would have in fact if a strong hand hadn't caught my shoulder and jerked me back, into a pair of equally strong arms.  
  
I fought automatically, with every ounce of strength in my scrawny little body and he held on through all of it, until I was calm enough and awake enough to realize that he wasn't hurting me. In fact, it was a hell of a lot more likely that I'd managed to give him a good punch or two, and I could feel myself blushing as I finally relaxed in his embrace.  
  
He let me go, warily, as if expecting another good smack or two, and I flopped backwards unto the bed, exhaling loudly before I said, "Jesus, scare a guy why don't you?"  
  
"I'm sorry," he replied, and I rolled my eyes. "I just wanted to ask you a question."  
  
I blinked. Weird did not even begin to describe this guy. "Well, I'm all ears, have at it."  
  
"Why did you do that?"  
  
"What? Save you?" I asked, confused. "I already told you, I was curious..."  
  
"No," he interrupted, "not that."  
  
When he didn't say anything else, I had to resist the urge to smack him once more for good measure. Three o'clock on the morning and Superman wants to play guessing games. "What then?"  
  
"When you were sitting in the cockpit," he said, almost a mumble, and awareness dawned. Hell, he was -embarrassed-, and I had to fight back a grin that would have probably gotten my nose broken had he seen it.  
  
"Why did I lick your nose?" I guessed, and he nodded slightly. Frowning a little, searching for words, I finally just shrugged and said, "It was there."  
  
Apparently, that wasn't the answer that soldier boy was looking for because he frowned, brow creasing. I shrugged again, a little helplessly, what did he want me to say? That I thought his nose was as cute as the rest of him and, as usual, I hadn't been able to resist the little devil in me who had suggested it?  
  
"Look," I started, a bit annoyed. I'd helped this guy left and right and now he was going to be pissed off by a little lick? "If I offended you somehow, then I..."  
  
The rest of my words got lost somewhere in his tonsils as he covered my mouth with his and gave me just about the sloppiest, wettest and fucking hottest kiss I'd ever had in my admittedly short life.  
  
I've never been very good at resisting the more carnal aspects in life, and whatever argument we'd been about to have was promptly forgotten. Until his hands started to worm themselves beneath my tank top and then I crashed back to reality right quick. Hell, this guy wouldn't even tell me his name!  
  
"Hey! You can't...I mean...you..." Words, usually my most trustworthy and reliable friends, had cruelly deserted me to deal with the situation on my own.  
  
Just ducky.  
  
He was just looking at me expectantly, and I couldn't help but wonder if I had 'slut' tattooed somewhere on my forehead where I couldn't see it. It would sure explain a lot in my life. "Look," I started, patiently, "We can't just...do..." I faltered a bit. What was it about this guy that made me feel dirty to say the word fuck?  
  
"We can't do that," I said finally, shrugging mentally. "I mean, I don't know anything about you. I don't even know if you're clean or what."  
  
He gave me the most perplexed look, which was pretty amusing coming from him. "Of course I'm clean. You watched me shower earlier."  
  
I almost swallowed my own tongue trying not to laugh. "That's not quite what I meant," I said, grinning in spite of myself. Ah, hell, he was right. I -had- watched him shower earlier, although he wasn't actually supposed to know that...anyhow, I already lived dangerously. Might as well add this onto the list.  
  
He was watching me with this bewildered look in his eyes and it was probably the most expression I'd seen on this guy's face since I'd met him.  
  
Leaning up, I slid one hand behind his neck and kissed him, hard. I might have confused him a bit a moment ago but this he seemed to understand and he responded eagerly, already trying to push me back onto the mattress.  
  
Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Roboto.  
  
A quick twist and shift, and I had him pinned beneath me. Not too hard, this guy had me beat when it came to strength but I was willing to bet he wasn't going to hurt me.  
  
He didn't. He struggled for just a second, mostly out of surprise, but I kissed him again and he stilled, opening his mouth warily when I probed his lips with my tongue.  
  
Again, he tried to push me so that I was beneath him and I pulled away, shaking my head before I whispered into his ear. "Nuh uh. My bed. My way or the highway." I punctuated my words by licking his ear, and he shivered delicately beneath me. Ooh, he was sensitive...this was going to be good. He seemed to consider what I'd said for a minute, and I thought for sure he was going to just figure 'Screw this' and leave. I very nearly called the words back, figuring that doing whatever he wanted was better than blue balls...but he didn't leave. He nodded, once, and that was that.  
  
What can I say? I fucked him silly. Bent him over on his knees and just had at it. It was his first time, I knew that without saying, and I know I must have hurt him some but he never once complained. You didn't get to be like this guy without being able to take a little pain. He might even have a bit of a taste for that, you know?  
  
He reminded me of those guys on L-2 who used to come downtown to Mona's in their neat, tidy little business suits...  
  
Oh, you've heard of Mona's?  
  
Hey, don't look at me like that. A guy has to eat, and on L-2 there were some really odd ways to make a buck. Better to slap someone else around than to wait for them to slap you.  
  
Anyhow, those were the guys who let you tie them to the wall and then just use a belt on them until their ass was as red as their faces. And they'd never make a sound, bite their lips bloody to keep silent, not because they were afraid of crying out in pain, though they wouldn't do that either, but to stop themselves from begging for more.  
  
He did everything I told him to, no question, which was, well, hell, it was weird, for me. Maybe it was a bit of a relief for him, to have someone's orders to follow, even in this situation. And as hot as it was to have someone obey your every whim in bed, it pissed me off a bit too, that he would think he had to.  
  
Didn't piss me off enough not to enjoy it though.  
  
Afterward, when we were lying there with the sweat drying on our cooling skin and he was playing with my hair, which he'd taken out of the braid -without- my permission but I was too relaxed to give a damn, he asked me, in that quiet voice of his, "Was this why you saved me at the hospital?"  
  
I mumbled something, more asleep than awake and not particularly in the mood for conversation. But this guy was as annoying as a hole in the toe of your sock and he could certainly pick a poor time to get chatty.  
  
"Was it?" he persisted, shaking me a little.  
  
Well, fuck me sideways...wait, just did that... "Do you only get verbal when the sun is down, or is it just the sex?" I groused, pulling my pillow over my head. A long moment of silence and I gave in, peeking out from under my fluffy barrier to meet his confused gaze.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Who -was- this guy? "No," I said, stifling a yawn, "I did not save you from the hospital to get you to sleep with me." That the thought had crossed my mind once or twice didn't count and I tactfully decided not to add that bit. "I saved you because it was the right thing to do," I said, shrugging a little. That was true enough.  
  
He looked like he wanted to say something else and I stuffed my pillow in his face before he could. What a time for him to take on my personality traits. "Go. To. Sleep!"  
  
***  
  
I sure as hell regretted not conversing with him a bit more the next day. Maybe if I hadn't been so abrupt after the fact he wouldn't have ransacked my Gundam for parts.  
  
Then again, this is the super hero we're talking about here, so chances are if I'd been cuddlier he probably would have just left me a note to go with my poor looted Deathscythe.  
  
"Traitor!" I screamed to the dying whine of his engine, with the thought of little love notes left on the control panel of my Gundam waltzing in the back of my head, and I was laughing before the sound of my scream could even fade away.  
  
The heat of my anger burning itself out as quickly as it had flared up because wasn't it funny? I screwed him and he screwed me. Fair's fair, isn't it? And as I remembered the sight of him on his knees with his pretty little ass in the air, begging silently for me to give it to him, I have to think I got the better end of the deal.  
  
Then again, considering the parts he'd stolen, that was probably the most expensive fuck I'll ever get. Doesn't matter. I'll see him again, anyway. Make no mistake of that.  
  
We've got a score to settle.  
  
Still grinning, I turned back and wandered back into the hanger to see about repairing my mobile suit, already half-singing.  
  
"Hey, Jude..."  
  
-finis-


End file.
